Regrets
by Sarcastic Realist
Summary: Not a day goes by... that I don't think of you. [HouseStacy] COMPLETE! Thanks for the reviews!
1. Chapter 1

**Regrets**

_I. _

Anyone who has, or perhaps has had an enemy at one point in their life knows that it is, in fact, quite possible to hate someone with every fibre of your being. For Gregory House, that concept was very well known, of course, because after all, he was- according to most people- an arrogant, selfish bastard. So, when an interesting (and possibly awkward) moment, (in his opinion) was interrupted by a rat, it should be perfectly understandable that he wanted to, at that time, throttle it.

Simply stated, she had been so close… so close, and yet, at the same time, so far away, or even just out of reach. From his point of view.

And, he mused, he supposed she was… to a certain degree.

House's train of thought, or rather, whatever one would choose to name the many deliberations and reflections of his mind, was cut off by a figure entering his office and slamming the door behind her; then coming to stand in front of his desk and glaring pointedly at him.

"What the hell were you trying to do?" Her voice was quiet, too quiet for his liking, and it made him uneasy. "Were you trying to get me to fall for you again? What?" She stared at him, attempting, for the most part, to decipher what was running through his head right then. He stood up and hobbled around the desk to stand beside her, or he was, until she turned, and then she was in front of him again.

It was meant to be a demand, he was sure, but to his trained ears it sure as hell didn't sound like one. It probably wouldn't have even resembled one even if she was talking to Foreman, for the simple reason that she never got mad at him, and that he knew now she had some semblance of feelings left for him. He just had to get her to admit it, although it was fairly obvious when they were in her attic, waiting so patiently for her sick pet rat to appear so they could capture it.

God, he hated that rat. The damn rat.

His expression automatically molded into a frown, causing Stacy's to change as well. "What?"

It would have been the easiest thing in the world, really. Lean forward two inches, kiss her, catch the damn rat, and leave. She could deal with Mark after he left, and maybe deal with her own thoughts in the process. But, you know he wasn't going to push it.

"Greg."

He pulled himself from his thoughts once more, looking at her… looking back at him.

For seventeen agonizing seconds they had been frozen in time. For seventeen agonizing seconds he had let himself get lost in her eyes like he used to, and for seventeen agonizing seconds, he wrestled with the idea that he was still in love with her.

He realized it on the eighteenth second.

_**A/N: The whole story is done. If you want it... you know what to do. There's very little HS stuff out there. And the chapters are all short, I know it's annoying, but sometimes I write that way. Sorry.  
**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A/N: Yay! Reviews! Here's the next chapter! _**

_II._

Stacy didn't mind silence, but this was getting irritating. If not irritating, then it was making her nervous. House looked deep in thought. His head was tilted slightly to one side, and he was staring at her. She shifted uncomfortably, and apparently broke him from his reverie, for he blinked slowly.

"Why do you put up with it?"

She frowned. What was he talking about? "Put up with what?"

He gave her a look that clearly said 'duh'.

Her brow furrowed, and she stayed quiet, knowing that if she was silent long enough, he wouldn't be able to stand it, and would eventually blurt something out. She was right. After thirty seconds of hearing nothing but breathing, House opened his mouth.

"He doesn't love you."

Jaw hanging open, her eyes widened, and she fumed silently. "How _dare _you!"

His expression quickly morphed into one that mirrored her own. "What?"

"You have _no _right to judge Mark just because you lost your chance," she hissed. "He's going through hell right now, and you breathing down his neck isn't going to help anything. Yes, he does love me, but of course he's a little curious that you're hanging around all the time. Anyone with human feelings would."

Ouch.

"I cannot believe you." She stood, feet planted apart, jaw tight, glaring at him again. "All this time… you were just playing. The file… the dishes…"

"The rat," he added, and her eyes darkened with fury.

She shook her head. "Unbelievable. I never thought you could stoop that low."

"Then you don't know me very well." The words were out before he could stop them, and he regretted it instantly.

_Oh, you went and made her mad, now, Greg._

House winced. "I-"

"What the hell is wrong with you? What are you trying to do? I came here as a friend, just asking you to help me and Mark, and now you're—"

He knew he shouldn't have done it, but of course, by then, complete irrationality had taken a firm hold on his brain and turned it to mush (yes mush, you read that right). Without a second thought, he bent his head and covered her mouth with his own.

_**A/N: Muahaha, cliffhanger! Sorry, I had to do it. I'll update again tomorrow, but only if I get more reviews! **_


	3. Chapter 3

_III. _

Then, as soon as it had begun, it ended. House pulled back, and turned and left his office.

Stacy watched him disappear around a corner and felt her knees slowly give out, mind whirling. She sank into a chair and leaned her head back so she was looking at the ceiling, still feeling the unexpected, but gentle pressure of House's lips on hers. They tingled a bit, and she would have laughed had the situation been under different circumstances. But it hadn't, and so, willing strength into her body, she got up, exhaled, and went after him. She found him after only a minute of searching, because she knew him, and somehow she knew he would be with the one person he could trust, and that person was James Wilson.

"Can you excuse us a minute?" She asked through gritted teeth, then changed her mind and shook her head. "You know what, never mind." Taking a deep breath and willing her expression to stay cool and composed, she turned to House. "Never, _ever _do that again."

She spun on her heel and was out the door before you could say- uh, well, something long.

Wilson's expression suddenly changed to one of curiousness. "What did you do now, House?"

The blue-eyed diagnostician muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

Wilson grinned. "What was that?" Truthfully, he had no idea, but was eager to find out what it was.

House glared at him and repeated himself.

Wilson sighed. "I can't understand that."

"ShewasgoingonandonabouthowmuchIwasajerkandIkissedhertogethertoshutupitwasjustforthatIswear."

Wilson coughed. _"What?"_

"You heard me."

"Again, House, I can't understand you."

"Go to hell. You heard it just fine."

"I did not!"

House's gaze shot daggers at him. "She wouldn't shut up."

"And you did what, exactly?"

House stared sullenly at the floor, and Wilson sat straight up. "You didn't."

House didn't move.

_**A/N: Please review! **_


	4. Chapter 4

No reviews, no more story. Did it suck after the first chapter or what?_  
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IV._

"Oh my god." Wilson's eyes widened. "You kissed her, didn't you?"

Still no reply.

"What the _hell_ were you thinking?"

Silence.

"In case you have forgotten, House, she is married."

"Don't you think I know that?" House snapped. "I told you, she wouldn't shut up. I know what a bastard I am, I don't need to hear it from her."

Wilson's jaw dropped. "Unbelievable."

If looks could kill, the oncologist would surely be dead- at least five times over- because the look House gave him was one that would make the most intimidating of people shrink to the ground. Wilson shut his eyes.

"You do know that you're officially screwed, right?"

House nodded and grabbed a beer. "Yup."

Wilson's brows flew to his hairline. "My god, what did she do to you?"

"You don't want to know" was his vague reply, and Wilson was instantly interested.

"Oh, believe me, I do."

"I hate me."

Wilson frowned at this new change of topic. "Really."

House drained the rest of his beer, along with some Vicodin. "Hell yes."

Wilson handed him another one and propped his feet up on his desk, preparing himself for a long night. "Talk to me."

"You sound like a psychiatrist," House mumbled. "Or even better, Cuddy. 'Go talk to Stacy, go talk to Stacy, go talk to Stacy!'" he mocked in a pathetic imitation of his 'boss.' "God."

Wilson smothered a smile. This was going to be a very fascinating evening.

"Sayyy somethinggg."

"What?"

House glared at him again. "I dunnoooo… somethingggg funnyyyy," he drawled, finishing his second beer and reaching for a third. The alcohol was getting to him already, Wilson thought in amusement. Yes, a very fascinating evening indeed.


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N: Thanks for the reviews.**  
_

_V._

Wilson grunted. "C'mon, Greg, help me out here," he pleaded to his semi-conscious friend. House had had way too much to drink, but surprisingly, he had not passed out yet.

"House?"

Damn the man; he was complete deadweight. Wilson groaned and pulled out his cell phone. "Stacy?"

"What did he tell you?"

"That's not important right now," Wilson muttered. "He's piss drunk, and I need help."

Stacy rolled her eyes. "No way in hell."

"I'll pay you."

­­­­

"It'd better be a lot," Stacy grumbled as she stormed in the door. "Out of a hundred people, you had to call me. I'm going to have to explain a hell of a lot to Mark, you know."

Wilson sighed resignedly. "It's your fault he's drunk in the first place," he countered tiredly, "so you were the lucky winner to come help me. Now grab his legs," he instructed. "We'll take him to my car, and I'll drive him home."

"And then I'm out of here, and hope to God he won't wake up." Stacy glared at the now unconscious House. "Why don't we just put him in a wheelchair?"

"Cuddy would have my ass."

"I'll cover for you." Stacy said quickly, willing to do anything to get out of there- fast. "Be right back.

Sure enough, she was back two minutes later with one, and with a great deal of effort, the two lifted the comatose diagnostician into the chair-on-wheels.

"Thank you," Wilson said, relieved, as he dug out a fifty from his wallet and handed it to Stacy. "You're a lifesaver."

She just muttered something under her breath and walked away. "Don't call again."

"Stacy…"

She turned. "What?"


	6. Chapter 6

_VI._

Wilson shifted uncomfortably as he glanced at House in the front seat of his car. "Do you have to go home?"

"Why?"

"Come for coffee. Just for a bit. We can… talk. After I dump him off back at his own house." Wilson waited, hoping she'd agree.

"Just you?"

"Just me," he confirmed.

"_The Little Café_, twenty minutes."

"Great."

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"I ordered for you" was her greeting, and she motioned to a cup of hot coffee on the table. Wilson slid in the booth across from her and offered a tentative smile.

They were silent for a moment, until finally Wilson broke the silence and asked a question he was sure might get him killed. "He really kissed you?"

Stacy looked at him. "Mmm."

Wilson shook his head. "He still loves you, Stacy."

"I know." She took another sip of her coffee. "That's why I'm leaving."

"You're leaving?"

She raised her eyebrows at him but didn't comment.

"It's going to kill him."

"He'll live."

Wilson was torn between wanting to demand how she could put House through the same thing twice and wanting to accuse her of running. He did both.

"You're running away."

"No I'm not."

"How can you put him through the same thing again, Stacy? You saw firsthand what it's done to him." Wilson's heart now ached for his friend. House may have been a jerk, but he still had a heart. And if she left, it would have been broken by the same person. Twice.

Stacy smiled sadly, and it made Wilson almost angry. "You're running," he repeated. "You're running because you don't-"

"James." Her voice stopped him, and he realized how illogical he sounded for the first time. "I'm saying goodbye tomorrow."


	7. Chapter 7

Lookie! An update! Review, please! It's almost over...

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_ VII._

They parted on a sad note, Wilson half-angry, half-sad, and Stacy still trying to reason with him. Wilson, instead of driving home to an empty house, changed direction and headed for House's, deciding to check if his friend was still out cold.

He slipped quietly in the door and spotted him sitting up, watching t.v. with a bottle of water beside him. "Hi."

House didn't even bother glancing at him. "What are you doing here?"

Wilson shrugged and plunked down in the couch across from him.

"How's Stacy?"

He should've known.

"Alright, I guess. When'd you wake up?"

"Ten minutes ago. Thanks for the ride," House mumbled quickly.

Wilson merely nodded, thinking it wouldn't be a good idea to respond, as a 'thank-you' from House was rare.

"Are you going to tell me what she said?"

Wilson shook his head. "Nothing important, really."

"I don't believe you, but I'm too tired to argue. I'll grill her about it in the morning," House yawned.

Wilson wisely chose to keep silent.

"You had coffee, didn't you?" House's tone was almost accusing, and Wilson's instincts went on alert.

"Admit it, House. You're still in love with her. I'm not going to tell anyone."

"Well, when you put it that way… no."

Wilson sighed.

"Ask her. She probably thinks she's got me figured out already," House sneered.

"She knows you, House. Better than you think she does."

House swore under his breath. "I hate that."

A small, incredibly sad smile touched the corners of Wilson's lips. "I know."


	8. Chapter 8

Last chapter. Thanks for the reviews, they've really encouraged me!

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_  
VIII._

_Chicken. _

Stacy set her jaw firmly and continued on her way to House's office.

_Am not. _

"Stacy." She turned, and waited as Wilson expertly threaded through the people to catch up and walk with her. "Did you talk to him yet?"

She shook her head in the negative. "I'm on my way."

"Just-" Wilson stopped, trying to figure out how to word what he wanted to say. "Don't completely shatter his heart, okay?"

She nodded silently, cursing the tears that threatened to form behind her eyes, and quickly turned away so he wouldn't see them. "Okay."

_Don't do it. _

Stacy ignored the voice and snuck into an elevator at the last minute, breathing slowly to calm her nerves.

_You know you can't do it._

_Can, and will, _she argued with the voice and tapped her foot as the elevator doors opened to the floor of House's office.

Her stomach was in knots. Her hands were clamming up. She had the beginnings of what she knew was going to be a bad headache. And she was still going through with it.

_I'm married, and I do not have feelings for him. _

She breathed out heavily and began walking to his office.

_Yes you do. _

Stacy turned a corner and ducked into an empty restroom. What was wrong with her? She splashed cold water on her face and stared at herself in the mirror. _It's for the best._

_That's what _you _think._

She closed her eyes. _And it's the truth. Now leave me alone._

_One more thing…_

She squeezed her eyes shut, even though she knew full well the voice was entirely her imagination.

_You know you love him._


	9. Chapter 9

So... it's finally the end. Thanks for the reviews, you guys are amazingly awesome and I'm SO glad you liked it. I still can't believe people actually clicked on this story AND took the time to send me fab reviews. If you like House/Cuddy stuff, check out my WIP, "It's Raining." Love y'all lots!

Shay

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_IX. _

"Greg."

When House looked up, she looked back at him for a moment, almost sadly. Screw it all, he really was still in love with her, whether he liked it or not, and she probably knew it, too. He gazed into her eyes, if that was even possible from across the room, and, suddenly wanting to be near her, he stood up and hobbled over to her.

_Got a picture of you_

_Carrying my heart_

_Close my eyes and see you_

_When the world gets dark_

_Got a memory of you_

_Carrying my soul_

_I wrap it close around me_

_When the night gets cold_

_If you ask me how I'm doing  
I'll say just fine_

_But the truth is, baby_

_If you could read my mind_

She smiled at him, if only for a minute. God, this was hard. She sucked in a quick breath. "I'm leaving." Exhaling quietly, she dropped her gaze to the floor and then snapped it back up again, so badly wanting to see his face, yet not wanting to see it at the same time.

_Not a day goes by_

_That I don't think of you_

_After all this time_

_You're still with me, it's true_

_Somehow you remain_

_Locked so deep inside_

_Baby, baby, oh baby _

_Not a day goes by_

His ice-blue eyes stared back at her, and her knees suddenly felt like they couldn't support her weight. She willed them to stay standing for a while longer, and breathed again, the smell of cinnamon aftershave and the unique scent of Greg House filling her nostrils.

_I still wait for the phone_

_In the middle of the night_

_Thinking you might call me _

_If your dreams don't turn out right_

_And it still amazes me_

_That I lie here in the dark_

_Wishing you were next to me_

_Your head against my heart_

"For good."

It seemed to take all of her energy to nod, and he looked away.

_If you ask me how I'm doing  
I'll say just fine_

_But the truth is, baby_

_If you could read my mind_

When he finally glanced back at her, she had tears in her eyes. "I guess that's it, then."

No words would come out, so she just nodded.

_Not a day goes by_

_That I don't think of you_

_After all this time_

_You're still with me, it's true_

_Somehow you remain_

_Locked so deep inside_

_Baby, baby, oh baby _

_Not a day goes by_

He raised his hands to frame her face, and she couldn't move. She was positive she was trapped in his eyes, and she couldn't pull her gaze from them even if she wanted to. His head lowered ever so slowly, and he brushed her lips with his, softly, sweetly. Her hands gripped his forearms for support, and he finally pulled away to speak his last words to her.

_Minutes turn to hours_

_And the hours turn to days_

_Seems it's been forever_

_Since I felt this way_

"I'm sorry."

"I know."

_Not a day goes by_

_That I don't think of you_

_After all this time_

_You're still with me, it's true_

_Somehow you remain_

_Locked so deep inside_

_Baby, baby, oh baby _

_Not a day goes by_

_That I don't think of… you

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The song is "Not A Day Goes By," by Lonestar. It is NOT mine. Bye.


End file.
